


Forgettable Embarressment

by sherlocked221



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Caring, Drunkenness, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-01
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-05 17:29:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6714184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sherlocked221/pseuds/sherlocked221
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Oh, he’d forgotten about last night. The shower, the sick, the naked Spock, the three or four too many drinking binge. For some reason, half of him though that was just a dream, up until the moment he saw pointed ears poking out of black hair</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forgettable Embarressment

Stumbling out of the bar, McCoy tried to navigate his way back to the transporter by his blurred vision and holding onto the arched corridor walls. Once off the damned space station where bad decisions were made, such as to get this drunk again, he waddled into the turbo lift, trying to ignore the sudden sick feeling in his stomach. And the floating feeling didn’t help with that. He was glad for a second to get out of the tiny moving room, only to walk into another. He had to get to his quarters, his stomach had already decided it was going to be sick and he was not giving into it right at that moment. The embarrassment of throwing up in the middle of a hallway was enough to motivate him to run and there, closer than it usually felt, was his room.

The door swiped open and it didn’t even register that the lights were already on. All he could think about was getting to the toilet. He stumbled in only to see someone standing, in his bathroom, with their shirt off, getting ready to go in his shower. Spock noticed the doctor leaning in the doorway and cocked his head to the side.

“Are you alright, Doctor?” He asked but McCoy couldn’t reply. The realization that he’d wandered into the wrong quarters just added to his nausea. He wanted to leave, apologize in the morning, but ended up skidding across the tiled floor to grasp the bowl of the toilet and let the contents of his stomach come up into his throat. For ages, he didn’t notice Spock’s presence who’d shifted to the other side of him and knelt by his side. Only once he was sure the last had come up did he even begin to think about Spock being there. It half made him feel sicker but if he didn’t meet that inquisitive gaze, he wouldn’t throw up again.

“Doctor, here, gargle with this. It’ll take the taste away.” Spock offered him a small capful of diluted blue liquid which McCoy took, shyly, and turned to the sink to spit it out. When he’d turned back, Spock had flushed the toilet and was looking at him, an eyebrow raised.

“Sorry… Sorry Spock. I thought this was my…”

“Evidently, doctor. But I will not allow you to wreck more havoc in the corridors.” He helped McCoy stand up and glanced down at the doctor’s blue shirt, stained with sweat and sick, “You will have to shower but I cannot allow you to attempt it alone due to your intoxicated nature.”

“You mean you’re gonna shower me? That’s weird Spock.” McCoy giggled as the Vulcan tugged at the hem of his shirt and dragged it up over his head. He then unzipped the Doctor’s black flared trousers and let him pull it down himself, so to not end up in a compromising position. With McCoy’s underwear the last thing to come off, Spock turned to himself and disrobed.

“No, I will not bathe you, Doctor. I will join you. After all, I was going to wash before you arrived.” McCoy reached a hand out to steady his swaying body and regained his thoughts as Spock said he’d wash him. His blue eyes opened wide to watch the Vulcan become completely naked, start the water and walk over to help McCoy in. The heat from the water didn’t really seem to register in his mind as he stepped in, rather it was the blissful body temperature radiating from Spock’s green tinted skin that he could feel. Every brush or gentle touch from the Vulcan made a shiver run down the doctor’s spine, especially when the unknown hands began trailing along his body, lathering up shower gel and rinsing it off again. Oh it was heavenly when Spock ran his fingers through McCoy’s hair massaging shampoo into it.

After cleaning the Doctor up, Spock quickly tended to himself and then stepped out of spray, grabbing two towels from the rack. He wrapped one around his own waist, helped McCoy out and wrapped the other around his shoulders. They both came out to the main bedroom where Spock disappeared into his wardrobe and McCoy was left standing by the bed, wandering what the hell he’d gotten himself into. This was so strange. Spock seemed so calm seeing the Doctor naked as though it didn’t affect him, which McCoy thought, maybe, he should take as an insult but he was too drunk to care and there also was the point that Vulcans are unaware of beauty. However, McCoy was not unaware of Spock’s. He hadn’t meant to stare at his chest when he got the chance, neither had he meant to enjoy his touch as much as he did.

Spock emerged from the wardrobe dressed in a tight fitting black undershirt… but no trousers. Blue boxers took their place instead, much to McCoy’s interest. In one of his hands, he held a similarly coloured dressing gown, for the doctor. He took it upon himself to take McCoy’s towel off and place his arms into the sleeves of the robe. Once it was tied up, hiding all that hung low, Spock guided McCoy to the side of the bed and tucked him in like a child before climbing over to the other side and curling up under the duvet.

Early the next morning, McCoy opened his eyes and, despite the very low lighting, a sharp pain made its way to his head. It thumped hard and painfully so he squeezed his eyelids shut, desperately, and turned around to face…

Oh, he’d forgotten about last night. The shower, the sick, the naked Spock, the three or four too many drinking binge. For some reason, half of him though that was just a dream, up until the moment he saw pointed ears poking out of black hair. He’d never seen Spock’s perfect haircut so out of place before. It was handsome. Despite all that went on last night, despite the shame that still pooled in his stomach, he was glad he wandered into Spock’s quarters of all peoples. The doctor curled up against the Vulcan and fell back to sleep, content that he wouldn’t feel so bad in Spock’s arms.


End file.
